


You Like Me Like This?

by stileskolpath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Lydia Martin, Dead Peter Hale, Derek Loves Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Evil Peter Hale, M/M, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles has a werewolf kink, Stiles werewolf kink, Werewolf Kink, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stileskolpath/pseuds/stileskolpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was something odd about it. Stiles found himself seriously turned on by Derek’s wolf. Seriously, whenever the alpha began to shift with that familiar twist of his neck, Stiles could feel the blood rush from his brain to… other parts of himself. It also didn’t help that he was ridiculously in love with Derek himself, sans wolf. Problems on problems."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Like Me Like This?

There was something odd about it. Stiles found himself seriously turned on by Derek’s wolf. Seriously, whenever the alpha began to shift with that familiar twist of his neck, Stiles could feel the blood rush from his brain to… other parts of himself. It also didn’t help that he was ridiculously in love with Derek himself, sans wolf. Problems on problems.

Given the times that this was usually occurring (i.e. something evil was most likely trying to kill one of the pack), Stiles did not deem this an appropriate bodily response to seeing Derek wolf-out. Additionally, given that Derek was a werewolf and possessed of certain werewolf-y traits, part of this reasoning also included the tacit fear that Derek would discover Stiles’ lycanthropic kink and do that thing he had promised to do way back when Kate Argent had shot him. It involved Derek’s teeth, and Stiles’ throat. Not a great image.

But seeing Derek all wolf-y did things to Stiles, or rather, made him do things. Like when they were in the hospital being chased by the alpha wonder-twins, and Stiles had attacked the monstrous beast with nothing but Mama McCall’s old bat. And that was only after seeing Derek growl, bar his fangs a little, and flex his claws. It had made the human a little hot-around-the-collar, and even led him to believe that attacking the two-for-one alpha was a good idea.

So when he saw Derek go full-wolf on Peter, a few months after Scott, Allison, and Stiles had died (briefly) to save their parents, and they had all helped vanquish the Darach, and sent Deucalion running off with his tail between his legs, Stiles found himself a little weak in the knees.

Okay, a lot weak. Like, having-trouble-standing-up weak. He wobbled slightly, and hoped no one noticed. They didn’t. They were too busy training their attention on the snarling psychotic uncle, who was baring down on Scott and Lydia.

And Derek was having none of it. Stiles could tell. They were at the loft, the five of them hunched over Derek’s long table-desk, trying to solve the riddles behind the murders that had been occurring in the areas surrounding Beacon Hills over the past few months. At first they thought that Deucalion was back with a vengeance, but the twins managed to confirm that he was nowhere near the town during each of the killings, or at all, for that matter. Stiles had propositioned the ‘war’ that Jennifer Blake had mentioned between the emissaries and the werewolves, and together, he, Scott, and Lydia had personally gone back and scouted the locations of the known telluric current fluctuations, looking for clues to their involvement. They found nothing but the usual abandoned buildings and the dried evidence of what had happened there several months prior.

But Lydia, in all her glory, had been nursing a silent theory. And it involved the formerly dead uncle of Derek Hale, and his desperation to return to alpha-dom. Oh, right, and his desire to retrieve said power from the newly-minted true alpha that was Stiles’ best friend.

When she finally voiced it, the group didn’t even bat an eye, or question it, because the pieces all sort of fell into place. Including the one that involved Peter arriving back at the loft the instant Lydia finished speaking, carrying groceries.

He had sensed what was coming as soon as he entered the room. His eyes flicked towards Lydia and instantly became evil, ice-blue slits as he shifted and snarled, letting the groceries fall to the ground unceremoniously.

"I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance, bitch."

Scott had stepped in front of the strawberry-blonde banshee and returned a growl of his own, red eyes glinting as he shifted. Allison was edging back slightly towards her bow, Isaac was beginning to shift himself, and Stiles was… welll, watching it unfold.

Then Peter lunged. Derek shifted. Stiles had seen it, and it was the quickest transition he had ever witnessed. But his eyes had missed none of it. Derek had leapt up and cleared the table and Lydia in one bound, wolfing out as he did so. Stiles had seen his brow ridge thicken into it’s customary snarl, eyebrows somehow dissolving on his face. Derek’s usually-stubbly beard had instantly grown like three inches of hair, thickening heaviest beneath his cheekbones. Stiles wanted nothing more at the moment than to run his fingers through it, to garner some kind of certainly growl-ish reaction from the werewolf. The alpha’s fangs had begun to lengthen as he soared through the air, and his eyes became their usual blood-red alpha color. His heartbeat went wild as he caught the glimpse of them, slamming away in his chest due to the potentially life-ending consequences of his current situation as well as the thought of having those eyes bore into his own in a much more… relaxed position.

Stiles enjoyed the slow-motion setting his mind was having at the moment, and was slightly disappointed when Derek landed and the feature was shut off by some other, clearly boring, part of Stiles’ mind.

The alpha snarled at his uncle. Yup, Stiles was sporting a partial.

"Oh, you too, Derek? I was beginning to think you were letting these ridiculous teenagers run your life," Peter snarled behind his blue eyes. Derek growled in response. Stiles was having a problem.

"I have a duty to protect my pack."

Somehow, Peter chuckled. “Your pack? This random bunch of… misfits is hardly your pack. Your real pack died all those years ago in the fire. I’m all you have left of it.”

“You died in that fire. Or part of you did. The part of you that was remotely good. What came back was definitely not anything that I would ever want in my pack.” The conviction behind Derek’s voice betrayed the length of time he had probably waited to say that.

"Who told you that? Them? He pointed a clawed finger at the mixed group of werewolves, a human, and banshee clustered around the table. Stiles was thankful he was not standing near them at the moment. He sensed that things were not going to go well for anyone in that vicinity presently.

Then Peter moved his outstretched claw, circling around to point at Stiles. The human swallowed. Any sexual urges he was feeling instantly abated.

"It was you, wasn’t it?" Peter Hale cocked his head to the side, eyeing Stiles curiously. Derek growled in warning and crouched his stance. The protective gesture sent Stiles’ heart into spasms along with his dick. "You told him what I had said about Paige." Stiles was about to answer when Lydia spoke up, a surprising lack of fear in her voice.

"He told him that you were lying.” Peter shifted his glare back at her. Any fear Stiles had was completely nullified by a strong affection for Lydia Martin. Peter tried to advance, but a snarling Derek blocked his path.

What happened next was too fast for even Stiles’ special slow-mo mind to catch. Peter lunged, and Derek made for him with outstretched claws, and with a sickening, wet sound, the two came together, and Derek kept going. Peter did too, and he seemed to take a moment to register that he no longer possessed a functioning windpipe. His claws reached up and grasped at the air around the wound, which was quickly beginning to leak his life’s blood down the front of his chest. He sank to his knees.

A few feet behind him, Derek flicked blood from his fingers onto the floor as if to say ew I got it on my hands again. Stiles couldn’t really say why he was still turned on. Peter Hale slumped to the ground, twitching.

Derek barely turned around at the noise of it. “Somebody cut him in half, already,” he sighed. 

It was Lydia who moved, going over to Allison’s gear bag and grabbing a long, gnarly-looking knife. “Gladly. Scott, Allison, Isaac? Can you help me with this?” She gestured at the still-slightly-twitching Peter with a perfectly manicured hand and glanced at Stiles with a would you just? expression. Nothing escaped her. Stiles swallowed again, his embarrassment tempering his apparently obvious werewolf crush.

As the pack hefted the body out the door of the loft, Lydia followed. “Don’t worry Derek, he will stay dead this time. I’ll make sure of it.” She stopped on the steps and turned around to wink at Stiles menacingly before she walked out the door, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handkerchief, which she crushed into a ball and hurled at Stiles. He caught it with a minor flail, and managed to hear the click of her heels as they receded down the hallway over the thumping of his heart and the confusion that wracked his brain.

Derek was still on the other side of the apartment, trying to flick blood off of his claws. He hadn’t shifted back yet. Stiles then realized why she had given him the small handkerchief. He would never hear the end of it if he didn’t use it, so he began to take small, tentative steps towards Derek. Before he knew it, the werewolf was turned to face him, and Stiles immediately began breathing heavily.

"Stiles, what are you—?" Derek the wolf questioned the human, who had begun to shakily dab at the blood on his claws. He sniffed, and Stiles froze. "Why do you smell like that?"

Stiles pretended to ignore the question as he wiped the last of the blood off on the handkerchief, tossing the small piece of fabric aside. He had used a hand to support Derek’s splayed claws as he cleaned them, and he found it was being gripped tightly.

"Smell like what?" Stiles feigned ignorance. Which was probably a mistake, because he knew that he probably oozed some kind of super pheremonal arousal smell, and now he just lied about it… To a werewolf. Excellent.

"You know what. Arousal. Sex. Desire.” Derek seemed to taste the last word with his tongue. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He willed the floor to open up underneath his feet and swallow him whole.

"Your werewolf powers must be out of whack." Stiles scoffed and avoided looking at Derek’s face, because he knew that the it would give him away. There werewolf was still gripping his hand, so he jammed the other one in his pocket and stared intently at his feet.

"Stiles."

Stiles risked a glance up at the red eyes of his adopted alpha. It was just as he feared. He was gone. Unable to resist. He felt his face flush with heat that radiated into his ears as his pulse quickened. He felt it, so he knew Derek must’ve too.

"Stiles, do—" he paused, werewolf-y brow furrowing in the process, "do you like me or something?"

Stiles flat out laughed. It was a short, sharp outburst. One that he instantly regretted. Derek eyed him confusedly.

"Yes, Derek. That’s it. I like you. Stupid teenage crushes and such. You got me." Stupid attractive werewolves with their damn superpowers. Seriously, how much did the universe hate him that he was even turned on by Derek’s wolf?

Derek tilted his head. Stiles did not see the resemblance between him and a confused puppy for an instant. He definitely did not.

"You’re lying, Stiles." Fuck. Stiles pulled his hand free of the alpha’s. He pacified by rubbing his wrist. He was about to start speaking, when Derek decided to instead. “Is it more than that?” He paused, swallowed. “Or is it less?”

Stiles snorted glamorously. “Definitely more.” There was no point in denying it now. Derek would inevitably go running for the hills either way. “Definitely more. You didn’t know? You said I smelled weird.”

"No, I did." Fresh panic coursed through Stiles’ veins as his stomach flipped inside him. "I just figured you and Lydia… I didn’t know that it was for… me." Derek looked surprised at his own words.

"Yeah, well. That’s me. I pine after people who have no interest in me. The whole Lydia ship sailed a while ago. I realized when I had that panic attack at school and she kissed me. And I felt nothing. Zilch. Nada." Stiles sighed, like it saddened him a little bit. Then he shrugged and continued. "Then there’s you. With your stupid perfect cheekbones and stubble, and your fantastic body. Like whoa. I just. Wow. Hell, even your goddamn wolf is hot to me." Stiles wanted to punch himself in the mouth to make the word-vomit stop. But it wouldn’t.

Derek’s places-where-his-eyebrows-should-have-been shot up in surprise on his face. “You- you like me like this?” The slight stutter was goddamn adorable.

"Derek, I love you in all your forms. Scowling human or brooding alpha werewolf, it doesn’t matter. Your snarky comments, lingering looks, your goddamn inquisitive eyebrows, your stupid perfect teeth, hell, your perfect fangs; all of it. I can’t get enough. Every time I’m around you, I’m just— you know what, nevermind. Pretend I didn’t say any of that. I’m just going to go flush myself down the toilet.” Stiles started to back away, but Derek caught his wrist.

Sidestepping Stiles’ cloying confession and his obvious mental breakdown, Derek uttered the most beautiful sentence the human had ever heard. “What- what makes you think I’m not interested in you?”

"Wait, what?" For once, Stiles didn’t have any words.

"Well… yeah. I just… Fuck, Stiles. I’m not very good at this."

"Oh, and I am?" Stiles’ words were back. Derek chuckled. "But I thought… Paige, Kate, Jennifer…" Stiles huffed. "You’re straight."

"Werewolves… we are more, well, less, actually, conforming to human conventions. Especially when it comes to choosing our mates." Stiles looked up, as it was his turn to be surprised. Derek’s eyes grew wide in terror at what he just uttered. He released Stiles’ wrist.

Stiles’ heart began slamming against his ribs.

"Wh- what did you just say?"

"Fuck."

"We’ll get to that. The thing about mates?” Stiles paused, and the werewolf in front of him hid his red eyes in the palm of one claw. He put a tentative hand on Derek’s forearm, pulling it from his face and inching closer. To his surprise, the alpha didn’t fight it. “You know what, don’t worry about it. But let me see something.”

And with that, Stiles pulled his lips to Derek’s, closing his eyes as they made contact, and palpable electricity jumped between them. Gingerly, he slid his hands upward along Derek’s hairy jawline, feeling his fingers brush through it. His heart was fluttering, and… other parts of him were quickly draining his brain of blood.

It was Derek who closed the gap between them, bringing his claws around to slide gently underneath the hem of Stiles’ shirt. The slightest of moans escaped his mouth and passed into Stiles’. Well, it was more of a growl, low and rumbling from Derek’s chest. Semantics, really. Stiles wasn’t complaining, particularly as his tongue found the werewolf’s and his hands slid up into the thick black hair on Derek’s head.

When Stiles pulled back, breathless, pupils dilated and neck flushed with heat, his lips yelled at the missing touch, the warmth and taste of Derek ghosting across them still. Stiles rubbed a thumb over one of Derek’s brooding brow ridges, following it’s path with his eyes. When he was done, he settled them onto the alpha’s red eyes, flicking between them with his own amber-brown ones. Stiles was conspicuously aware of the fact that Derek hadn’t shifted back to his human form yet. He wasn’t complaining. He would eventually, because Scott would inevitably make some kind of bestiality comment. But that is what best friends were for. Making fun of werewolf kinks.

"So," Stiles said with broken voice, "mates, huh?" It was meant to be a joke, but Stiles secretly loved the idea.

Derek looked at him and called it, shaking his head lightly. ” Shut up. You love it.”

"No, I love you. There’s a difference.”

"Whatever," Derek huffed, and paused. After a moment, "I love you too."

Yup, Stiles thought as Derek still held him close. There’s no going back now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> So I have no idea where this came from, but I think it has something to do with me still finding Derek hot, even as a werewolf. It started off as campy but evolved into a semi-lucid story, some Lydia badassery was thrown in, and it became your typical Sterek fic. Don’t judge me.
> 
> Hope you liked it! I love kudos and comments!
> 
> Also, feel free to check out my tumblr (and ALL of the Sterek located therein) @ watchthewolvesrun.tumblr.com
> 
> -Stiles Kolpath


End file.
